Fumbling
by Klitch
Summary: Fushimi knows from the very start, that he's different.


**Notes:** This was intended to be the 'short' Sarumi Fest fic and got maybe a little longer than expected. Luckily I finished in time because there were two spots I figured I could end it on if I didn't get it finished like I wanted, and both of those spots were _soul-crushingly depressing._

...

He knows from the very start, that he's different, because of the things no one says to him.

Fushimi thinks maybe he's always known it, dimly, but he can't shape the words until elementary school, waiting on the steps for someone to come pick him up. Around him his classmates stream like a steady waterfall, down, down, down the steps of the school into waiting arms. They link hands, parents and children and brothers and sisters, and Fushimi sits on the steps and waits.

"I love you," someone says, not to him, and Fushimi knows.

No one comes for him so he waits until even the teacher's forgotten about him and then walks home alone.

 _Stupid,_ he thinks.

But he's different, and he knows.

...

He likes the third maid the best. She won't last long – none of them ever do, Fushimi knows full well "that guy" will chase her away soon, the way he has all the others. But Fushimi likes her.

Her food tastes all right, even though she puts vegetables in (they all put vegetables in, but the third maid smiles when he says he won't eat them and tells him they'll find one that he likes, just you wait). She comes twice a day, once in the morning when she makes breakfast and leaves him lunch, and once at night for dinner. Fushimi watches her clean sometimes, sitting on a chair in the living room. She hums while she vacuums and she talks to him.

She tells him his parents must be very busy, since they're gone so often. Fushimi doesn't answer but her voice is nice. She never leaves until he's in bed and sleeping, and sometimes she runs a hand through his hair as the drowsiness settles in.

She quits two weeks later, after that guy comes home. She doesn't say goodbye. He didn't really expect her to.

...

He remembers a dark closet, sometimes.

It's evening and he's home from school, playing on the computer in his room. Fushimi remembers hearing the front door slam and getting up to look (because if Niki's wife was home he'll have to stay in the room to avoid her, and if Niki's home he'll leave the house himself). As he makes his way quietly down the hall towards the door he hears the sound of breaking pottery.

Fushimi remembers a man dressed in dark colors and a long coat, muttering to himself as he digs through drawers and opens cupboards, and there's a knife on his belt. Remembers taking two steps back, then three. The thief swearing and laughing to himself, as if it's all a game, and that's the sort of laugh Fushimi already knows too well.

There's nothing here Fushimi cares enough to protect but he takes his computer anyway and hides in the closet, pulls the clothes over himself, huddled and small.

He remembers staring through the small crack in the doorway as the thief comes into his room and swears again, a kid's room, useless, nothing of value here. The closet is dark, dark, dark, and Fushimi tries to breathe lightly.

Two hours later when the stranger is gone the maid finally arrives and calls the police (he doesn't remember which maid, there have been so many by now). It's not until the first police car pulls up to the door and the owners of the house have been called that anyone remembers to wonder where Saruhiko is.

He remembers sitting in a chair in the kitchen and a policeman putting a hand on his shoulder, giving him something hot to drink.

"You've been through a lot, huh, kid?" A smile, but that's fleeting enough so Fushimi doesn't bother to reply.

And Niki's wife on the phone the whole time, pacing, hands on her hips.

"I haven't got time for this." An irritated sigh. "I have to be at a meeting in an hour. We just won't leave anything valuable out next time."

 _"Won't leave anything valuable out,"_ and sometimes he hears her words in his head and laughs to himself.

...

 _"Maybe if we had gotten onto it...would something have changed?"_

Fushimi is breathless as he opens the door to his room. No one is home – it's not quite time for Niki to show up and he hasn't seen Niki's wife in a week at least – so there's no one to tell him that it's after midnight, that he should have been in bed hours ago.

There is a touch of cold wind lingering on his hair and Fushimi falls into bed, curls up, twists his fingers together.

In his mind he sees Yata smiling at him, thoughtless and wild and determined, riding a bicycle through the streets of the city on a useless quest. There's something far away and high up in the sky and as he lies on his back Fushimi reaches a hand into the empty air as if he could grasp it.

 _"Would something have changed?"_

Nothing ever changed, though, except the stream of different maids and their vegetable dishes. The door was always unlocked, the house was always too large. He was always on the steps, waiting.

Yata had smiled at him again today, though. Yata, who had stared up at him from a stall in the boy's bathroom and called him cool, Yata who had walked halfway home with him from school, Yata who had dragged him along to a cold rooftop in the middle of the night.

Yata had sat beside him and listened to him when he talked. When Fushimi calculated where they needed to be versus where they were Yata had listened to him, and believed him.

 _"Would something have changed?"_

Fushimi stares up at the ceiling, hands still in the air, silent.

(Part of him dares to wonder if something already has.)

...

 _"When you get sick, you do get taken care of, right?"_

His head is pounding when he wakes up, sore and sniffling, and Fushimi decides it's just as well. He's almost done with the mailing app, after all, so he may as well stay home from school to finish.

He doesn't really remember the first day he decided to skip classes and hide in the bathroom. There was a part of him that had felt fluttery about it, waiting to see what would happen if he just didn't go to school. But what happened was nothing, nothing at all, no point in going and no point in skipping, so he always does what he feels like.

There are no tissues in the room so eventually Fushimi gets up to find some. He passes the maid on his way to the bathroom and she doesn't even look up from her cleaning to ask him why he's still home, so he doesn't say anything to her. He's thirsty but he feels too sore to walk all the way down to the kitchen for a drink so he just goes back to his room instead and starts working on the app.

 _"Also y'know when you have a cold and you're lying down and it's kind of lonely? But then you can hear your mom making noise in the kitchen and that feeling of relief when she immediately comes to you when you call is the most-"_

Yata had said something like that, right? Fushimi reaches for a tissue and pulls the blanket further over his head. Thinking about it now he still can't quite wrap his head around it, the sound of someone in the kitchen and coming when you call.

(Fushimi is different, after all.)

And then Yata is there, a sun that bursts into his room in the middle of the rain. When Fushimi calls his name he comes and as Fushimi falls asleep he wonders if this was that feeling that Yata talked about, being taken care of.

...

That guy hasn't been home in weeks but still, Fushimi worries about it.

They don't go to Fushimi's house. There's always that voice in the back of his mind – " _Put a mantis into your new friend's mouth_ " – and he won't let this be destroyed, not this one thing, not _them._

Not _Yata_.

They go to Yata's place instead, all the time. Fushimi watches Yata's mom as she cooks and he leans on the edge of Yata's bed, listens to Yata's siblings talk. The room is warm, the apartment is warm, everything is warm. Yata always smiles at him and talks like an idiot about everything and nothing, and Fushimi soaks up every word, replies when he wants to, listens, watches. They play video games and he wins every time (or almost every time) and Yata always demands a rematch.

When it gets too late Fushimi walks with Yata as far back as he dares and when they part he watches Yata's back until it disappears into the darkness.

Yata's mom always tells Yata to be careful when they leave the house, to call if there's trouble, to not stay out too late, and I love you. She smiles at Fushimi and calls him a good kid even though she doesn't know anything about him except that he's Yata's friend.

There's no one waiting at the door when Fushimi gets home, no one waiting in the house. He walks in to emptiness and silence and hurries up to his room with his PDA in his hand, mailing Yata back and forth the whole way.

If he had to pick a worst part of the day it would always be the moment Yata goes to bed and the mailing app goes silent.

...

Niki comes home in the middle of December, bringing presents. Most of them are flammable and Fushimi makes a fire in the fireplace because he might as well.

Yata invites him over for Christmas and Fushimi has no idea what gift to bring so he makes Yata a simple gaming app instead and the way Yata's eyes light up makes his heart flutter in a way he hasn't quite felt before but doesn't entirely dislike.

...

He's a second year, the first night he doesn't go home.

Yata walks him as far as they usually go and then turns and goes back, and Fushimi watches him until he's gone. But when he gets back to that big empty house there's a car parked on the street and a woman standing near the door. She's dressed in a fancy dress and there are men in suits gathered around her, and when she catches his eye she scowls.

Business meeting or unexpected party or an important foreign guest maybe who needed a place to stay for the night and no fancy hotels had a room available. In any case the signal is clear: unwanted, unneeded, go away.

Fushimi hasn't ever thought of her as his mother anyway so it's not like there's any pain there, the way she looks at him like he's something clinging to the bottom of her shoe. He feels the same way about her, so he turns and walks the other way in the dark.

Yata's mails have slowed, meaning he's doing chores or eating dinner or helping to get his siblings ready for bed and there's no use trying to go back there. He has nowhere else, though, no _one_ else.

Fushimi finds an open internet cafe instead. There are other people there, sleeping wrapped in blankets in small cubicles, salarymen who missed the last train or homeless workers looking for a place to spend the night. The man at the counter when he pays looks at him strangely, no doubt wondering what a kid his age is doing here at this hour, but doesn't say anything and Fushimi settles himself by a computer.

He sleeps poorly, waking up every hour or so to check his PDA for messages from Yata when there are none, occasionally staying up for twenty minutes or so to surf the internet before falling back asleep.

It's miserable and empty and cold, but that's nothing new.

...

The first time Yata uses his name it's thoughtless and offhand, enthusing about something Fushimi just said or did, and Fushimi's entire body stiffens for a moment at the sound of it.

It's not because it reminds him of Niki but because it doesn't.

Normally Fushimi can always hear the echo there. Teachers, classmates, relatives, it doesn't matter, he always hears the reverberation of that guy's "monkey" behind it all. Sometimes it feels as if he hasn't really got a given name at all, just a taunt, monkey, monkey, monkey. Like he's nothing more than a toy to be played with.

When Yata says it though, it feels like his name for the first time. Saruhiko.

...

He learns Yata's first name through Yata's mother, who ignores her son's indignant huff and calls him "Misaki" without any self-consciousness whatsoever.

It sounds like a girl's name, it's embarrassing, Yata hates it, won't let anyone use it. He's been saying "Saruhiko" for a month, though, and Fushimi's mouth twitches into a smile as he tries to reciprocate, just for fun.

"Misaki." It tastes familiar in his mouth even though it's the first time he's said it. "Misaki."

Yata gets mad, of course, but it's fun and Fushimi laughs – really _laughs_ , and he can't remember when he's laughed so much but Yata always seems to manage to drag it out of him somehow – and says it again. You use my first name, I use yours.

It's logic Yata can't argue with, so he hunches his shoulders and mutters that well, all right, it's okay if it's Saruhiko. But only between the two of us, okay? Not in public. Just between us.

"Only us two," and the words no one's ever said before ring in Fushimi's head like a prayer.

Misaki.

...

He always feels extra tired on the nights he sleeps in the internet cafe, but Fushimi's gotten used to it by now. There's been someone at his house all week and Fushimi spends the days at school, at the library, at the internet cafe, at Yata's house, anywhere but his own home. It's not really a home anyway and certainly not _his_ , so Fushimi has no problem with it.

Misaki does, though. When Fushimi tells him about the cafe Misaki's face twists into a frown more serious than Fushimi can ever remember seeing before.

"You can always come to my place, you know?" He can't, though, because there are parents, Misaki's parents, who like him well enough but not on a school night, not forever. Misaki is certain they would let him stay, though, if they knew the alternative.

Fushimi's own expression narrows in displeasure and he orders Misaki not to tell them. Misaki's unhappy, his shoulders hunched and his tone miserable and worried, but he nods. He's still thinking about it though and it's annoying.

Fushimi starts talking about other things instead, rockets that launch into the sun and fireworks that reach to the stars, about grabbing onto the world and holding it in your hands, and Misaki's eyes light up again, his smile brightens again and the whole thing is forgotten, as it should be.

Fushimi likes Yata's parents well enough but he doesn't need them and he doesn't need their pity either, doesn't need anyone's. Not even Misaki's.

...

That guy comes home again in the early days of April, too early.

Misaki's gone for the weekend, dragged away to a relative's house. He's been mailing steadily for the past hour but the last mail indicated his mother was about to take his phone away if he didn't stop, and Fushimi's PDA has already gone silent when he hears the front door slam shut.

There's a jump in his chest, breath caught, throat rattling – and it's not the dark closet he thinks of but an anthill covered in flames, no need to lock the door when the real fear would have a key anyway – and he scrambles to his feet, wondering if he can leave the house before that guy realizes he's here.

Too late and there's a trap set for him, a thin rope taut across the top of the steps. He trips, falls, slams hard against the floor with his head spinning and wrist aching, ankle throbbing, and that guy is laughing again.

"Success!" Niki's laugh makes his head pound worse. "You were in such a hurry too, little monkey. Where were you going?"

"Die," is the answer, and that only makes Niki laugh harder. Fushimi drags himself to his feet but it hurts a little to stand and he wonders if he sprained something.

The worst of it is there's no leaving now and the world spins around him as that guy's laughter echoes and echoes in his ears.

He spends the weekend hidden under the covers of his bed and doesn't come out even to eat, clinging to Misaki's infrequent mails full of complaining about how boring his relatives are like a lifeline.

But the door doesn't lock and Niki is always there, laughing.

...

Misaki takes him along places, when he can.

The beach, the movies, the amusement park on Minoru's birthday where they are both expected to help corral a group of excited six year olds. They escape as soon as they can and Misaki wants to go everywhere, do everything, enthusing about his memories of past trips to different amusement parks in different cities.

Fushimi has never been to one before. He and Misaki tease each other over who will be too scared to try the roller coaster and then Misaki covers his eyes the whole time and Fushimi gets motion sick afterward.

They end up on the ferris wheel together, Misaki pressed against the windows and enthusing about the view.

The air is hot and smells like summer. Fushimi falls asleep on a bench with Misaki sitting next to him and his fingers curl just a bit into the palm of Misaki's hand.

...

They end up in the same class second year, and third year too. Misaki is happy at the coincidence and cheers each time.

Fushimi knows how to hack a computer system and smiles to himself.

...

Misaki's parents aren't happy about it at all, Misaki not going to high school and Misaki moving away. Fushimi sits on the edge of the couch and plays with his PDA as he listens to them argue in the other room. Misaki's siblings are crying and it makes his ears hurt.

 _I said I'd take responsibility, didn't I?_ Fushimi supposes Misaki's parents won't like him anymore after this, but that's all right as long as they don't stop Misaki from going.

The voices die down and Misaki's mom is crying as she hugs him and Misaki's crying too and trying to pretend like he's not, and Fushimi's shoulders hunch.

(He doesn't tell anyone that he's moving out. He simply packs his things and prepares to go and no one notices.)

Eventually Misaki comes back over to him, eyes wet, but he's smiling and he gives Fushimi a thumbs up. Fushimi glances over his head towards Misaki's parents still standing together in the doorway and there's something in the way Misaki's mom looks at him that makes his chest feel tight.

He doesn't ask Misaki what he told them, to get them to let him leave. He doesn't want to know.

...

Finding an apartment is as hard as expected but Misaki is determined and Fushimi is dragged along like always, a piece of wood carried by a tide.

They want a wide rooftop, they want a deep basement, they want secret tunnels and hidden storage compartments and an elevator that comes out of the floor. They want somewhere big enough for two but cheap enough to afford, they want somewhere in the city.

In the end they get very few of those things but the place is good anyway. Misaki suggests flipping a coin to see who gets the loft and who gets the floor, but Fushimi is insistent on having the loft for his own. There's more room for him to set up the computer, after all. And if he likes it because he can look down whenever he wants and see Misaki below him, always there, always, then that's fine too.

Once all the paperwork is signed and everything is final, Misaki gives him a key. It's small and light in his hands and Fushimi grips it tightly, fingers running along the metal edges, and thinks he might actually use one now, a door key.

...

Misaki is lonely, the first few nights, and it makes Fushimi feel uneasy. Listening to Misaki talking on the phone to his parents and siblings, assuring them he's fine, Saruhiko's fine, we're happy, we've got food and money and the door's locked, it's fine. Misaki's restless at night though, waking up in the middle of the night and walking around and getting a drink and talking to himself. Fushimi sees it all from the top bunk but says nothing, pretending to be asleep.

It storms one night and the power goes out and Misaki says that maybe Fushimi should sleep in his bed. It's really dark after all, and they're running low on candles and flashlight batteries and besides it would be dangerous to try and climb into the loft in the dark.

There's mockery on the tip of Fushimi's tongue, because he's not scared of the dark and doesn't see why Misaki should be either, but he remembers the phone calls and the restless walking in the middle of the night so he swallows it back down and nods instead.

Misaki's body is small but warm and they curl up together under the blanket, Fushimi breathing in the scent of Misaki's hair.

Part of him wants to put his arms around Misaki and hold him close, but Fushimi stays curled in on himself instead. There are other words on the tip of his tongue that he's never said before and he can _feel_ them there, feel them so deeply he thinks they might tear him apart if he tries to speak them.

Misaki is here, Misaki is warm, and Fushimi sleeps in silence.

...

Fushimi remembers the phone call from the hospital sometimes, as he listens to Misaki talk with his mother on the phone.

He wonders if that guy's died yet, so he can finally start to breathe.

...

They're going to set off fireworks, after they beat jungle. Misaki's already got it planned, is already talking about how they'll sneak up to the roof late at night and set off hundreds of them at once, lighting up the sky, and everyone will know they're alive.

It's stupid, maybe, little kid's dreams, but Fushimi smiles and agrees. There's no way that they'll lose. Together, they can do anything.

Days later he's sitting in his bunk with a bandage above one eye listening to Misaki sleep, the remains of the computer setup still scattered around him and no lights at all in the sky, not even stars, and he remembers the way Misaki's eyes sparkled when he talked about Suoh Mikoto's powers.

 _Stupid,_ Fushimi thinks.

...

He gets the call later, from Niki's wife. She wants him to go to the morgue and claim that guy's body and Fushimi wonders how shameless a person can be.

Misaki offers to go along as soon as he hears. He doesn't offer condolences, though, and Fushimi is thankful for that.

...

The way home from the morgue is dark and cold and silent, and Fushimi's hands itch. Misaki walks ahead of him slowly, head down, and neither of them talk.

Misaki takes his hand, though, when they're almost back to the apartment, and Fushimi can feel him shaking.

"Saruhiko...don't die." It's just a whisper and Fushimi freezes.

It was all his fault, that time. If he'd been stronger, planned better, they would have won. If he hadn't been so stupid, they would have won.

And Misaki could have died. He can still remember those lines on the screen and the jolt that had run through him when he read them: ' _Is that friend of yours who puts pineapple in the porridge all right?'_

Fushimi's hand tightens on Misaki's and he nods silently. They sleep in the same bed again that night.

...

It's not at all like he planned and Fushimi can't find the words to say it.

He might have noticed it right from the start, when the fire swept over him and his body shook with the strength of it. Or maybe he'd noticed it even before that, during that walk home on the night of the surprise party, caught a glimpse of it in the way Yata's eyes sparkled as he talked about someone else. Either way, he knows it for sure within a few weeks, that this isn't what he wants.

It's power, that's for certain. Together he and Misaki are even stronger than they were before, stronger than other members of Homra who are their seniors. Even Kusanagi is impressed by how quickly they rise in the ranks of Homra.

But it's not what Fushimi wants.

Misaki smiles at Mikoto all the time, eyes shining. Misaki talks loudly about Mikoto, about Homra, about pride and power and people gather around him and respect him.

Fushimi is there, and strong, but no one's eyes light up when they talk to him.

The mark burns and this isn't what he wants at all.

...

The red aura isn't made for finesse but Fushimi does what he can. Mastering it is difficult but it's easier with something to channel the power through and Yata picks up a bat from who knows where soon enough (and a new skateboard too, that he gets the Homra logo painted on. Fushimi sees it staring at him from where it's propped up by the apartment wall and it makes him twitch slightly every time. Sometimes it feels like it isn't their apartment anymore, not his and Misaki's, it's Homra's and there's no going back from that).

Misaki tries to get Fushimi to pick up something similar, a bat or a crowbar or some other stupid hoodlum weapon and Fushimi scorns it all. But after one scuffle that leaves him bleeding he finds himself holding a knife and wondering if he could channel the red through that, what he could do with it.

It takes a lot of trial and error to get the harness right. The straps are too loose at first and won't stay on properly, then it looks too obvious under his clothes. One knife is good, two are better, five even more so. He gets the first set perfected and picks up some more. Hides them in sleeves and across his chest, in his shoes (he cuts his feet a few times and limps for a while and makes up a lie when Misaki asks what's wrong).

The first time he uses them in battle Misaki stares at him wide-eyed and gaping, and then his mouth splits into a smile.

"That was so _cool_ , Saruhiko!"

It's a breath of air in the middle of drowning and Fushimi starts calculating how many more knives he can add.

...

He tries, in his own way.

Fushimi's not made for mingling with others but he follows along behind Misaki anyway, huddling in the corner of the bar, sitting in his bunk and looking down when Misaki invites people to their apartment. When people talk to him he answers, even if they ask stupid questions. He tries to ignore the way he can't breathe when Suoh Mikoto is around, tries to ignore the voice in his mind telling him that this isn't a place for him.

Fushimi is different, after all, and he can't change that.

...

He always gets a cold in the early part of winter, to the point that as soon as the first frost hits Misaki starts stocking up on cold medicine and healthy eating lectures. Fushimi ignores him and does what he wants, and ends up sick at least twice before the season's out (and then once again in spring, and heatstroke in summer. The rest of Homra teases lightly about it but Misaki never does).

Sometimes when the fever is worst Misaki gives Fushimi his bed and sleeps on the floor beside him, wiping his forehead with a cold cloth in the middle of the night. Misaki doesn't go to Homra on those days.

Even so, Fushimi's fever dreams are always the same, always involve waking up to an empty room in an empty house with no one at his side. Sometimes he thinks that maybe it's all been a dream, the last few years, and he's still just a first year middle schooler in his room working on the mailing app and no one at all comes to check on him. Wonders if he's made it all up, the person who was always by his side, and if he's really been alone all this time.

When Fushimi wakes up he's covered in sweat and breathing hard and Misaki is immediately there beside him. Fushimi looks up at him, dazed and feverish, words on the tip of his tongue.

 _Don't leave me._

He doesn't say it.

...

The first time they almost die they've been in Homra not quite a year.

It should be an easy job, the usual clearing out of thugs and drug dealers and the like. Suoh Mikoto isn't with them this time but that's all right because it should be simple for the two of them together.

The lights go out but their flames light up the room anyway and Fushimi can feel Misaki behind him as he moves to strike at the leader of the group.

Then something descends on them, black as night and suffocating, and Fushimi barely has time to think _Strain_ before his vision goes dark.

At first he's not worried. It's only his eyesight that's been affected and he can still sense the presence of the people around him. He manages to block a few attacks without trouble and tries to focus on locating the Strain in the hopes that disabling that person will fix the issue.

It's when he hears Misaki cry out in pain behind him that Fushimi feels the first small pricks of panic. Reckless idiot Misaki, who probably couldn't do anything more in the dark other than lash out blindly.

Fushimi doesn't remember much of what happens after, other than that he keeps throwing knife after knife in the dark even as his own body gets worn away, thrown into a wall and kicked in the stomach, grazed by a gunshot, barely able to keep up as they all attack him at once and the entire time all he can think is that he can't feel Misaki anywhere.

The rest of Homra arrives eventually and when he can see again the warehouse is a mess, himself and the people he was fighting and Misaki too, unconscious against a wall from a blow to the head. Fushimi can't breathe again until he sees Misaki's eyes open and the first thing Misaki does is ask if he's okay.

They get bandaged and fussed over a bit by Totsuka and end up curled up together on Yata's bunk, holding each other silently. Fushimi stays awake even though he's exhausted, listening to Misaki breathe.

("Don't die," Misaki said to him once, and Fushimi can't stop shaking.)

...

They spend the first new year in the bar, locked in with Kamamoto and Anna and a half a dozen more Homra members. Misaki alternates between complaining about Mikoto not being there and talking with the others, making excited plans for how late they're going to stay up and what they'll do on the new year. Misaki's already talking about breaking out some of Kusanagi's alcohol, even though he's not old enough to drink and even the Homra members who are of age aren't fool enough to dip into Kusanagi's store without permission. Anna is half asleep on the couch, her eyes slowly closing and opening, determined to stay awake until the new year.

Fushimi is alone in the corner, playing with his PDA.

 _"We'll definitely set off fireworks from the roof on New Year's too!"_ Misaki's words echo in his mind and his head aches.

 _"You and I, we'll fly away somewhere huge and together do amazing things."_

Misaki is smiling and laughing with everyone else, yelling Homra's pride into the air, and Fushimi is alone in the corner of the bar.

That Misaki never intended those words to be lies doesn't make it any easier.

...

They're going to make him leave eventually. It's like an itch in his mind, a mark that won't go away. He's not the same as everyone else, he's a mistake, and they're going to make him leave.

Misaki looks at him sometimes and smiles, but it's not the same. Everything is about Suoh Mikoto now. Any power Fushimi has, it all comes from that person.

And Fushimi is afraid of his own King. He almost doesn't realize it at first but it gets stronger as every day goes by. He's afraid. Every time he sees Suoh Mikoto, his entire body feels cold and pained and he can't breathe.

"Mikoto-san is so cool!" He can't tell Misaki because Misaki won't understand. None of them will. All of Homra worships Mikoto.

They're going to make him leave, and Fushimi is afraid.

...

The power goes out in mid-winter and they have to share a bed again. The Red clan's power should be enough to keep them both warm but even so Fushimi feels frozen and numb alone in his own bunk.

They start back to back but always end up curled up together by the end of the night, sharing warmth. Sometimes Fushimi feels his hands press against Misaki and he raises his head, lets Misaki's breath hit his face, and his whole body tenses.

The fire inside him aches, but he still doesn't speak.

...

They don't need him. They don't understand him. He doesn't belong.

It gets worse with each day, the certainty. Sometimes Fushimi finds himself sitting alone in the apartment scratching idly at the Homra mark on his chest as if he could tear it off and he wonders if the only time he ever really belonged somewhere was that handful of months between when he left that large empty house and the surprise party disaster, that small window of time where he and Misaki were together and free, ready to take on the world.

It all feels so fragile and hollow now, as though he could break it with his fingers. Misaki isn't here anymore – he's at Homra, no doubt looking at Mikoto with shining eyes and saying "Cool!" The achievement Fushimi had felt so proud of has flown away with the ashes and dust, and he wonders if maybe he was only deluding himself there too. Maybe he's really achieved nothing after all, not even something so simple as the ability to make Misaki smile.

Homra doesn't need him. Homra has Misaki and Mikoto and Kusanagi and all the others who fit in perfectly. He's the chess piece on the checkerboard, out of place, not needed, not part of the plan. Homra doesn't have any use for him.

(Scepter 4 does, though.)

...

 _"I'll kill you."_

His chest burns, burns, _burns_ and Fushimi laughs even though he can barely breathe. There's fire in his blood and steel in his bones, and he laughs.

Misaki is gone, but that's okay. Fushimi's destroyed everything, but that's okay.

 _"I'll kill you,"_ Misaki had said and Fushimi hopes that this time Misaki will keep his promises.

...

Munakata is different from Mikoto. Scepter 4 is different from Homra.

Fushimi wouldn't say that he feels at home here because home is a stupid thing anyway and he's done with that kind of game. But he can be useful here and he can breathe, and that's enough for now.

The members of Scepter 4 sleep two to a room. The first dorm Fushimi sees has a bunk bed and suddenly the scar on his chest aches so badly he can't stop himself from scratching it.

He demands his own room after that. He's expecting a fight on that end but Munakata is surprisingly lenient, simply agreeing to Fushimi's demand with a smile that suggests he has thoughts about Fushimi's reasons and isn't sharing them. It's annoying but it gets Fushimi what he wants, so he doesn't say anything.

He takes the top bunk. He can't sleep anywhere else.

...

It's irritating, how long it takes him to get used to fighting on his own. It isn't like Homra, with partners working together, but most of Scepter 4's members still work in squads and teams, many units making up a whole.

Fushimi is still different but in this place it's finally useful.

Munakata gives him leave to act as he will, sends him on secret missions and information gathering and hunts for suspects, and lets him go alone if he likes (Fushimi always goes alone). Fushimi doesn't know why the Blue King gives him so much room but he doesn't resent it either, beyond the occasional complaint about more pointless overtime. Munakata always smiles back at him and never says pointless things like "Be careful."

Fushimi doesn't mind going off on his own, welcomes it. He was alone from the very start, after all. It was the time with Misaki that was the anomaly. If he'd just stayed on his own and never wavered everything would have been fine.

But he's not used to fighting on his own and more than once he comes back with bruises and scratches and blood running down his face because he expected someone to cover his back when there's no longer anyone there. Still, it's better than the alternative.

Munakata never makes him take someone else along, only leads him to the infirmary and bandages his wounds and tells him he's done a fine job, and then sends him out again.

Fushimi knows he'll get used to it, soon enough.

...

The first time he sees Misaki Fushimi can't stop himself from smiling. It's like a fire lit in his veins, a drug that pulses through his body and jumpstarts every nerve, and he's moving to engage before he's even conscious of his own desires.

It's not the same, though. His chest burns again as he approaches and while Misaki is angry Misaki is also _sad_ , staring at him as though he's someone else's ghost. It's hard to taunt Misaki into a fight because Misaki keeps looking at him like someone who could still be his friend.

And it hurts too, drawing his sword, trying to use it against Misaki. He can see ruins of a precious thing in Misaki's eyes, and it _hurts._

He goes back to his room later, stares in the mirror. No good. No good. Fushimi Saruhiko is still too weak to break this thing he so treasured. He's given up so much and still hasn't gained anything at all.

There's a bruise by his eye and he takes off his glasses and that's when he realizes it. Of course it's no good this way. This person who had so few precious things, no wonder he can't break them the way he should.

But that guy could do it. That guy was always able to break everything effortlessly.

Fushimi parts his hair to one side and feels a laugh bubbling in his throat. Tomorrow he'll go down to the convenience store, buy some cheap hair product, make it stick.

The ghost's face stares back at him from the mirror and Fushimi smiles.

(It hurts.)

...

He never bothers to lock the door to his room. There's nothing worth stealing there anyway.

...

Sometimes he almost forgets, and starts to like Scepter 4.

The work isn't bad, not really. As much as he complains about it Fushimi almost enjoys himself sometimes – he knows his own worth here, that he's useful, efficient, and he almost likes it when Munakata assigns him something new that no one else can be trusted to handle (Munakata _knows_ , after all, and somehow it's so much lighter in his chest when he thinks about it, being sent on missions by someone who wouldn't have chosen him if he wasn't good enough to be chosen).

And sometimes he almost finds himself warming up to his coworkers. They're all annoying, of course – this is a job, not family, and he's certainly not here to make friends. He doesn't see the point in going out together after hours or doing things together on weekends. But there are moments here and there, that he almost wants to agree. During a reconnaissance mission he learns that Akiyama is maybe the least annoying out of them all and Fushimi actually doesn't mind his presence so much. Later after the mission's done and they're both in the infirmary getting their wounds bound Akiyama smiles gently at him and talks to him without any self-consciousness or fear whatsoever and Fushimi almost thinks that he likes Akiyama, almost thinks they could be friends.

On his next mission he runs into Misaki and remembers why he's decided there's no point in having friends anymore.

But still, sometimes, he almost wants to. He's still too weak.

...

It hurts the most when he doesn't get to fight Misaki, only look.

Standing on the bridge staring down, as Misaki runs up to Mikoto and Anna with a smile on his face. As if for Misaki nothing's changed at all, nothing's been lost. He's still in Homra. He still has his precious Mikoto-san, he still has his clan and his pride and everything he needs. Misaki smiling and laughing with eyes that shine, and it _hurts._

He doesn't realize he's been digging his fingers into the burn scar until he feels the light touch of Munakata's hand on his and he jerks away as if that hand was a bucket of cold water thrown over him. Munakata doesn't say anything, only looks at him with an unreadable expression before turning back to observe the scene beneath the bridge.

Fushimi doesn't follow suit. He turns away instead, goes back towards one of the Scepter 4 trucks. He has a report to write anyway.

( _"Don't you laugh."_ )

...

"A Red clansman has been killed."

If he's being honest, his mind goes blank at that moment. There's a thought hovering around the edges of his brain, treacherous, and Fushimi can't even let the words pass through his mind. He only stares at Akiyama and lets the words ring in his ears for a moment before he manages a reply.

"Who?"

It shouldn't matter to him. Regardless of who it is, Fushimi is not part of that place anymore. If one of their people was killed, then so be it. He shouldn't care.

When Totsuka's name is spoken his body feels strange, though. The tightness in his chest eases just a bit and his mind starts working again but he doesn't feel any relief.

His body feels warm but his hands are cold to the fingers, and Fushimi tells himself that he doesn't care.

...

Fushimi's never really sure why he goes down into the prison cells to look in on the Red King. There's no reason for him to go there. He has nothing he wants to say to Suoh Mikoto.

He goes down there anyway and even after all this time he still can't breathe around that man.

...

The sky is full of lights and Suoh Mikoto is dead. Fushimi stands on the bridge and stares down at the Homra members below.

Misaki is crying.

Fushimi's not sure why his chest feels so tight looking at Misaki. He feels irritated when Munakata starts to talk to him about it, as if what's just happened has anything to do with Fushimi at all.

He's different. He's still different. None of this matters to him.

But Suoh Mikoto is dead and Misaki is crying, and Fushimi follows his King away from the bridge in silence.

...

Something's changed, after that night at the bridge, and Fushimi hates it.

He sees Misaki sometimes, from a distance. Misaki's head is usually down, all his normal unbridled energy drained out and gone lifeless. He falls from his skateboard, he hides in the dark and empty bar.

Fushimi hears reports of where the other members of Homra have gone. Most have split off into the usual pairs, partners, licking their wounds and supporting each other, smaller pieces together even though the whole's been fragmented.

But Misaki hasn't had a partner in a long long time, and Fushimi's chest itches.

...

 _"You're the only one that's left."_

Fushimi doesn't know if Misaki thinks that's supposed to make him feel better, and he closes the phone.

 _"You're the only one that's left."_

As if he should be pleased about that. As if he should feel happy, that Misaki will only look to him now when he's got nowhere left to turn. As if Fushimi would want such a thing, such a half-hearted weak little thing.

But then, Anna's never done anything to him either and he's been ordered to investigate the situation at the tower anyway. If he were to find anything useful, he may as well send it along.

It isn't kindness, in Fushimi's eyes. He's not doing Misaki a favor.

This is only one time, after all.

...

There is green, everywhere, and red.

Misaki is on the ground, bleeding and swearing ( _so alive, then, still alive)_ and Fushimi's stomach twists with something cold as he takes in the scene before him.

He's been sent to investigate the movements of the Green clan and ordered not to engage. Just gather information and return to Scepter 4 headquarters. An easy enough order.

He hadn't expected Misaki to be there too, already fighting, running headlong into danger like the idiot he's always been.

One of the Greens approaches Misaki, pulls a knife. Fushimi's own knives are out and flying before the Green clansman can take another step.

He's not helping Misaki, of course. He's just making his own judgment, that this situation is too dangerous to be allowed to proceed. That's all.

He steps into the light and ignores the voice screaming in the back of his head, that these people will touch Misaki again over his dead body.

...

They're both bleeding and arguing as they stumble through the rain-soaked streets. Fushimi's long lost track of where they are, of how many enemies are pursuing them. They're supporting each other somehow but they won't make it much farther.

Misaki's probably got a broken arm, Fushimi's almost certainly got a broken leg. He's bleeding from half a dozen places and he's started feeling light-headed. Misaki's started urging him to keep walking in increasingly panicked tones.

Fushimi's not really sure how they've ended up like this. He wants to tell Misaki to stop holding onto him like that, stop looking at him with those eyes.

"You're not leaving me again, okay, Saruhiko? I'm not gonna forgive you if you die, you stupid monkey!"

Misaki's voice is shaking now and Fushimi's head is swimming. From somewhere in the distance he hears the sound of a siren.

"Just a little farther, okay?" Misaki keeps talking and it's annoying. Fushimi doesn't see the point in all this anyway. Misaki's just going to leave him behind eventually, so he might as well do it now and save himself. But when he tries to say that he can't seem to get his mouth to form the words and his vision is going dark around the edges.

"Saruhiko! H-hey, come on, look at me. You're not gonna lose this easily right? Saruhiko!"

Misaki's voice is getting shakier and thinner, and his good arm tightens even more around Fushimi's shoulders. Fushimi's feet feel heavy and there's a sharp pain with every step, and all he can hear in his head is Misaki's voice. The world has faded away, gray in the corners of his vision, indistinct (he can't feel his glasses on the bridge of his nose and he wonders if he's lost them or if his face has just gone numb) but he can hear Misaki, feel Misaki.

"We're gonna make it together, okay? Not too much more. Don't you dare die on me, Saruhiko!"

The last thing Fushimi thinks before everything drops away is how odd it is, that Misaki should be crying.

...

When he wakes up he's in a hospital bed, with Misaki sitting in a chair beside him fast asleep and covered in bandages, one arm in a sling. Fushimi's head feels fuzzy and his leg is in a cast, and he can't quite recall how he ended up here.

"I believe your orders were not to engage." The voice makes him jolt slightly and he finally notices Munakata in the doorway. The Blue King looks a little worse for wear himself and Fushimi wonders how long he's been out.

He opens his mouth to make some reply but his voice doesn't seem to quite work. Munakata steps over and places a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Nonetheless, welcome back, Fushimi-kun."

Later Misaki wakes up and there is crying and yelling and nurses coming in to tell them to keep it down. But for now Fushimi feels tired, so tired, and he finds himself staring at Misaki hunched over in the chair as his eyes close and he sleeps.

...

There's a lot of talking after that. There's more crying and cursing and yelling, false starts and second tries and by the time things are worked out again Misaki's arm is out of the cast and Fushimi's only got a slight limp.

He's still not sure about this, this being together again. He's already been through this once and every nerve still feels taut and on edge, the never quite fading belief that all this is going to end, that he should just run now and save himself the trouble.

He doesn't, though.

(And it isn't just Misaki, in the end. There's the memory of his time in the hospital too, everything that comes with it. Kusanagi and Anna, who come to pick up Misaki and Kusanagi places a hand on Fushimi's head and tells him that he worried Lieutenant Awashima sick. Anna stays behind for a time and they talk about ghosts and lost things, and she takes his hand before he leaves and tells him not to give up again. Later the other Special Forces members arrive and Hidaka is crying – _crying_ – and the others tease him about it even as Fushimi stares up uncomprehendingly. Akiyama puts a hand on his shoulder, asks him how he feels, tells him they were worried. Awashima comes in by herself and scolds him for not following orders but there's clear relief shining in her eyes. And Munakata comes back, day after day, and sits by his bedside, tells him he's done well and should rest until he's better.

Fushimi doesn't understand it, but he doesn't really hate it either.)

...

Munakata tells him one day, idly, in passing, that he isn't required to live in the dorms. Fushimi doesn't understand until that evening when he's leaving work and Misaki is waiting for him.

Misaki takes his hand and looks up at him – Misaki's eyes still shine but there's something else in them now that Fushimi can't quite bring himself to name – and drops a small silver key in his palm.

–

Getting back into old habits is by turns exhilarating and terrifying. Being with Misaki again, the same apartment, sleeping in the same room, day after day, constantly reminding himself that this can be permanent, it doesn't have to break again, he doesn't want it to be broken.

They sit side by side on the couch watching a horror movie because Misaki insisted, saying that it would be fun. The lights are off – for 'atmosphere,' Misaki had said – and there's popcorn and it just so happens to be storming outside. Fushimi is only paying partial attention to the movie because his eyes are on Misaki who is, as far as Fushimi can tell, scared shitless.

Misaki tries to bluster about it, of course, pretend that he's fine, this is nothing, just tell me if _you're_ scared Saruhiko and we'll stop. Fushimi just nods and sits there perfectly calm as Misaki bites his lip to keep from screaming with every jump scare.

The killer jumps out of a closet at the exact moment there's a flash of lightning and a roar of thunder from outside and Misaki finally lets out a shriek as he jumps against Fushimi, and then the two of them fall back against the side of the couch with Misaki on top and Fushimi below, hands touching and faces far too close.

Misaki's eyes are wide and he's breathing hard and Fushimi feels his heart pounding in his chest so loud he thinks it must be drowning out the thunder. They stay that way for a long moment, too long, and then Yata scrambles back with a muttered apology and Fushimi's mind is still so scattered that he can barely manage a taunt in reply.

They sit on the couch in silence after that and Fushimi tries not to notice the way Misaki keeps looking back at him out of the corner of his eye.

...

There's an awkwardness between them that's beginning to get noticeable enough to make Fushimi nervous because he can't trace the source. He assumes it must be something he's done – it usually is – or else Misaki being stupid about things and not wanting to talk about them.

Fushimi doesn't like it but he doesn't say anything either. There are a thousand traitorous thoughts hovering on the edges of his mind, reasons and problems and another million excuses to run fast and far, and he'd rather not have any of them confirmed true.

Munakata says something to him a few days later, about the importance of trust and communication. Fushimi clicks his tongue and leaves the room.

...

Misaki is acting strange and Fushimi tries to ignore it, tries to be calm, tries to tell himself that he hasn't done anything and Misaki's just being Misaki again and nothing's going to change.

Sometimes he catches Misaki staring at him from across the room, looking thoughtful. Fushimi looks back at him irritably, asks what the problem is, and Misaki stammers that it's nothing, nothing, totally nothing it's fine.

Fushimi's fingers dig into the palms of his hands and he wonders if he should ask Munakata about going back to live in the dorms. But every time the thought comes to mind Misaki is suddenly there beside him, smiling and chatting like everything really _is_ fine and Fushimi feels the pounding in his chest again that he can't name.

It's strange but Fushimi finds himself thinking stupid thoughts, about Misaki's lips and Misaki's skin and Misaki's smile and he realizes that all right, maybe he's been staring at Misaki a little more often too.

...

They're sitting across from each other at dinner and the silence is a little stifling. Misaki usually cooks but the day's been long and so they just ordered Chinese takeout instead. Misaki splits the meal evenly and then once his back is turned Fushimi exchanges most of the vegetables in his portion for half of the meat in Misaki's.

When Misaki sees that he doesn't complain about it the way he usually does, doesn't scold Fushimi for his unhealthy eating habits or anything like that. He just smiles and laughs a little and Fushimi doesn't even really know what to say to that, so he says nothing.

"I love you."

Misaki blurts it out halfway through the meal and Fushimi's entire body stiffens.

He's heard those words said before but never to him. For a moment Fushimi's mind goes blank and he wonders if there's someone else in the apartment somehow, if Misaki's on the phone, not quite willing to believe his own ears.

And then Misaki reaches across the table and grabs his hands, the usual warmth of Misaki's skin against the chill of Fushimi's, and Misaki's eyes are serious and maybe a little embarrassed. His face is a little red too and this time when he speaks there's no mistaking the sincerity in his voice.

"I mean it, okay, Saruhiko? I—I guess I botched telling you a little bit, I was gonna make a big meal and everything but...I love you, okay?"

Fushimi supposes that if he was normal this would be the point that he says it back and they kiss, but his mouth won't work. Words that are unfamiliar in his ears are even more so on his tongue, and all he can do is nod.

Misaki smiles anyway.

...

Three weeks later they're sitting at the foot of the couch playing video games, passing the controller back and forth. Fushimi's already won twice and Misaki's almost won once and insists they keep playing. While Fushimi plays Misaki sits staring at the screen but with his head cocked to the side so that it's practically resting on Fushimi's shoulder and one of his hands rests lightly on Fushimi's knee.

It's comfortable, somehow. There's a steady snow falling outside and the apartment has poor heating so Fushimi's wearing a slightly oversized sweater that Misaki gave him for Christmas, possibly partly as a gag gift but it's warm and so is Misaki's hand where it touches him. Misaki's eyes sparkle when he takes the controller and vows his video game revenge, and Fushimi hides his hands inside his sweater and clicks his tongue.

While Misaki plays Fushimi watches him, not the screen, and he knows exactly how well Misaki's doing from the way his face twists and changes, bright smiles and victorious grinning, frustration and irritation, expressive and wild in a million ways. When Misaki thinks he's gotten an unbeatable score he looks at Fushimi with a broad grin and it makes something catch in Fushimi's throat.

"Let's see you beat that one!" Misaki hands over the controller and their hands just touch as Fushimi takes it. There are words in his mind and without even realizing it Fushimi finds himself speaking.

"...I love you."

It tastes unfamiliar in his mouth, words he's never said before, and Misaki's sudden startled look gives way to a smile so bright Fushimi feels a little dazzled again and then Misaki's arms are wrapping around him and Misaki is laughing and Fushimi doesn't really know what else to say.

(Fushimi has always been different, but it suddenly occurs to him that to Misaki that's never been a problem at all.)


End file.
